


The Gears of Westeros

by drakhus67820



Series: Steampunk Westeros [8]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rhaegar Won, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternative Energy, F/M, King Rhaegar, Mystery, War, wildfire - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 02:29:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15854376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakhus67820/pseuds/drakhus67820
Summary: Despite all the benefits that Rhaegar's rule  has brought, many enemies lurk in the shadows. The Lieutenant Colonel Jon Snow is trained in the crushing workings of royal politics. Even worse, after several years of a relationship as discreet as passionate with Princess Daenerys Targaryen, his love is threatened. Among potential suitors and political rivals, the young princess will also have to fight for what matters most.In a steampunk Westeros on the verge of war, between the threats of the Blackfyre exiles as well as the Stormlands' insurgents, Jon and Daenerys will have to face many challenges to be together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to theScarletGarden for this wonderfull Translation! 
> 
> Thanks to Justwanderingneverlost for this beautiful picture!
> 
> Please Read and Comment !

 

 

Spring had already settled well south of the Neck, and Jon Snow was looking with childlike joy at the verdant countryside of the Riverlands, soon replaced by the equally green Crownlands. In the North, spring still tarried, and although the snow had stopped several months ago, the temperature had not yet risen.

The frigid winter that had started in 300 A.C. was one of the coldest ever known. Everything had worked against their survival, Balon's madness and then the Baratheon-Blackfyre invasion taking a heavy toll on both people and land. Despite all of this, to the immense surprise of everyone, it had been one of the least deadly, even in the North. All this was the work of King Rhaegar and his insistence on building the largest project that the Seven Kingdoms ever knew, the vast and sprawling rail network of Westeros.

Fifteen years of construction had been necessary, more or less, and thousands of people had worked on it. As the King so rightly said, it was the work of the people as a whole. When Jon first heard about it, it was almost always in the form of complaints. Few of his father's vassals saw any interest in its existence. Today they sang praises on the railroad, well pleased with the many cargo trains filled with food that had kept the natives fed throughout the five years of winter.

In an indirect way, the railways had also played an important role in Jon's career choice. Without it, Jon would probably be a miserable member of the Night's Watch, sentenced to freeze to death on a Wall full of criminals and traitors. One of his deployments had led him to defend the Wall against the invaders of the Free Folk.

Thinking about the Wall and the Black Brothers made Jon grimace. Unconsciously, his right hand went to massage the base of his throat, where the dagger of a traitor had very nearly taken away his life. Jon shook his head in disgust while driving out of his mind the dark memories that came to him.

As a bastard raised in the North, even that of a lord, he had had very little prospect for the future that would allow him to prove to others and to himself that he was worth as much, if not more than his legitimate brothers and sisters.

Except in the case of a sinister event, he would not inherit anything. His father's wife had done everything possible so that none of his father's vassals would want to take him to their service. Even though he had received the same education as his brother Robb, his future would have been to rot on the Wall if it was not for the meeting with his uncle Arthur and King Rhaegar.

It was during the inauguration of the line Winterfell-King's Landing, that the King and a part of his family had made the trip for the event. Jon had been kept hidden by his family lest he was perceived as an insult. He had spent the day with a knot in his stomach, waiting impatiently to finally meet his uncle Arthur, with whom he had only exchanged letters.

When he was finally able to meet the Sword of the Morning in the Godswood, he was surprised to discover that the King was with him. He was initially unhappy, as Jon at the time shared the Northern preconceptions about their King. His displeasure was quickly replaced by surprise: far from the arrogant and unpleasant man that many of his Northern comrades painted, the King seemed uncomfortable, even embarrassed. He went so far as to apologize to him and his uncle for encroaching on their meetings.

The King wanted to visit the crypts of Winterfell. There was only one reason that could drive him to go there: he wanted to pay tribute to his second wife, Lyanna, the aunt who died in bed with their child. His Majesty explained that he did not want to insult Eddard Stark, knowing perfectly well that the Lord of Winterfell felt a dark bitterness towards the King. A deserved bitterness, Jon reluctantly acknowledged.

Resentment or not, Rhaegar had married Lyanna. He deserved to pay homage to his wife and their child who died during childbirth. Jon led the two men silently into the crypts until the granite statue of the Queen of the King's heart. Each one of them in turns before Jon's eyes, Arthur and Rhaegar paid their respects.

Rather than leaving Jon and Arthur in the Godswood, the King offered to let them have their meeting in the comfort of his private district. Sitting pleasurably in the guest quarters, Arthur regaled his nephew stories about Jon's mother, Ashara Dayne. Sometimes the King discreetly made a comment, taking advantage of the conversation to take a break in his correspondence.

Jon, on his side, offered his uncle a glimpse of his life in the North. He could see that his uncle did not seem satisfied with what he heard. However, it was when Jon announced that he wanted to take the black that both his uncle and the King issued horrified protests. The hour that followed was rich in revelations for Jon, leaving him deeply dejected. His dreams of finding his place at the Wall had finally been overtaken by the cold truth.

Again, it was the King who offered him advice. Why would he not join the Royal Army? For many lords, including his father, the Royal Army was an attack on their authority, especially since the King had ordered that several garrisons be created outside of the Crownlands. In the North, because of its involvement in Robert's insurgency, Moat Cailin and the adjoining lands had been placed under direct control of the Crown. It was the only punishment given to the Starks for rebelling.

His uncle filled him in by talking of the Royal War Academy, which formed the army officers. Once accessible only to the nobles' legitimate sons, Rhaegar had it open to any individual who passed the entrance exams. The Sword of the Morning was even ready to offer him a recommendation on the condition that Jon deserved it. At that moment, His Majesty gave him a look of pity and sympathy that Jon did not understand immediately.

He had the answer the next morning when his uncle got him out of bed at dawn. Arthur was really excited at the prospect to train his nephew, which did not happen without friction within his family. If martial training was one thing, his uncle did not hesitate to test Jon in other disciplines.

To his surprise, Jon was joined in his training by the Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen. The prince was easy to appreciate and despite his initial hesitation, he quickly tied links with him, links that still existed today and that the passage of time had only strengthened. To his delight, Jon could say that the future King regarded him unashamedly as a friend.

Well understood, this only added more trouble to his relationship with his stepmother. Catelyn Stark took for a personal slight his friendship with Aegon. Robb hadn't been put aside, but on the contrary, he participated at the training and lessons, except that this time nobody minimized Jon's efforts in front of the Sword of the Morning.

Unfortunately for Jon, all good things must come to an end. The month ended with the return of the royal family and their protectors to the capital. As promised, Ser Arthur offered Jon a written recommendation to enter the Royal War Academy. Then came the discussion with his father, as he had to announce it to Eddard Stark. As always his father showed no surprise, although he was not pleased with Jon's decision. He would very clearly have preferred that his bastard son went to the Wall.

"There is honour in the Night's Watch, you would have your place there. You could even end up becoming the Lord Commander," his father told him to change his mind.

Even today it was one of the many grievances he held against Eddard Stark, one of the many reasons that broke their relationship. His father had never really accepted the fact that his son had preferred to go South rather than at the Wall. Unhappy as he was, Lord Stark couldn't do anything but let his son venture South anyway.

For three years Jon made a point not to betray the confidence that his uncle had put in him. His efforts were rewarded when, out of the War Academy, he was promoted to the 3rd class rank of Lieutenant.

Jon, however, had no time to celebrate his graduation. Hardly a week after the end of his training, he had barely received his allocation that the battalion to which he was attached was called to join the Expeditionary Corps in Essos, officially, to ensure the interest of the Crown and protect Pentos from the savagery of Khal Drogo. Unofficially, to save Princess Daenerys Targaryen, in exile in the Free Cities for the last year.

Thinking about Daenerys immediately brought a smile to the young man's lips. Much more than the praise and distinctions that he was offered, it was his encounter with his fierce princess he cherished the most. Three months had passed since their last meeting, and his heart longed to see her again.

His relationship with the beautiful young woman was worthy of the love songs that his younger sister enjoyed. Secret and clandestine encounters had punctuated their relationship from the beginning, and while it was initially a bodily union it had turned into something more.

Jon had to do himself violence to clear his mind from the memories of their last carnal frolics. Not for the first time, he thanked that he had been alone for most of the ten last days. Almost all Westeros trains had a wagon reserved for the use of the Royal Army only. This one was no exception.

Seventeen days were spent trying to figure out why he had been summoned to King's Landing. The letter was confusing, its wording a mystery. It was written as if it was a response to a formal request, which Jon did not do. Was this some kind of joke? Although Jon was in the most complete fog, he did not like the feeling.

Rummaging through the pocket of his uniform jacket he pulled out the pocket watch Robb had given him. He sighed in relief as the needles of the watch indicated that he had only a short hour to endure on the train. Jon got up from his seat to stretch out, going to the suitcase he had brought to get out a clean uniform before heading to the toilets of the wagon.

The morning was slowly nearing its end when Jon finally managed to escape the hum of wildfire engines and the cacophony of travellers. In front of his eyes stretched the Unlikely Square, at which centre stood majestically the statue of a man with a wise and benevolent look. It represented Aegon Targaryen, who had been nicknamed the Unlikely because of his rise to the Throne while being far in the line of succession. It was thanks to him that they had discovered the refining of wildfire and its innumerable utilities. From the powerful machines that fed the factories to the bullets that armed his service weapon, all the power of Westeros came from the dangerous green liquid.

The big train station of the capital was in the old town of King's Landing, which for a long time was considered the rotting heart of the city. It was only very recently, barely twenty years ago, that this part of the city had recovered its lustre of the first days. The Mad King, in a last act of wanton cruelty, had put to the torch whole neighbourhoods of the city. After that, in a last act of distrust, the Mad King entrenched himself in Maegor's Holdfast with his last loyalist troops. In the end, the old town and the Holdfast were turned into a smoking ruin, the latest scars offered by Aerys the Mad.

For several years, Maegor's Holdfast had been under reconstruction, as King Rhaegar had very little interest in using royal funds to rebuild a place that holds very few good memories. The old town, on the other hand, had been entitled to the King's attention.

Under the King's orders and after the confiscation of the fortunes of a large number of Aerys' former favourites, the centre of King's Landing had been rebuilt, refurbished and completely renovated. Parks had been built, its muddy streets were paved and the abominable sewers that had contributed to the horrible reputation of the city renovated. Rhaegar Targaryen had found a city of ashes, he would bequeath it to his heir as stone.

Neighbourhoods of sinister reputation like Flea Bottom had been razed to the ground. Today on Flea Bottom the largest park in the city was built, and all around, luxurious mansion and private hotels had flourished. One of these hotels in particular, the Silverwing Hotel, was well known to Jon. During his stay in the capital, Jon was one of the luxury hotel's guests. Right next to Daenerys' staff suites.

Looking up to the sky, Jon could also see one of the other great inventions of Rhaegar's reign. Powered on rails, wagons capable of holding several people paraded in the sky. Created by the rivals of the Citadel's Maesters, the Academy of Science, Philosophy and Nature had since its creation under the rule of the Unlikely increased its influence, while the Maesters had more and more difficulties to innovate. That was precisely the purpose of the creation of the Academy.

Jon still had several hours ahead of him, he was not expected by the King until late afternoon. He secretly hoped that he would have the opportunity to see Daenerys, but unfortunately to the latest news she was out of town. In her last letter, she wrote that she was going on a visit to Highgarden or an exposition of the Academy. She said her brother had sent her to calm the spirits of Mace Tyrell, the Lord of the Reach. It was no secret that the Fat Flower wished to make his daughter Margaery the next Queen of Westeros. Jon wondered what his friend the Prince thought about this.

After being offered a meal at one of the many stalls that adorned the streets, Jon wandered around the city. His dark uniform and the stripes on his collar and shoulders guaranteed him a relative tranquillity on the part of the civilians. Only when he met other soldiers, the vast majority of them soldiers on leave wearing the dark blue uniform of the Royal Navy or the white uniform of the Army Group Center, he was accosted or saluted.

When he finally arrived in front of the Sept of Baelor he was intrigued by a strange crowd meeting at the foot of Baelor's statue. The symbols of the Seven ubiquitous on their person identified them as devotees of the Sept. Some of the men had even engraved on their forehead the seven-pointed star. Fanatics, Jon thought with disdain. During the Battle of Pentos, he could see the vile excesses that this kind of individuals could do. Pyres and lynching were their favourite methods.

Even in the North, people had heard of his men and their leader, a septon called the Great Sparrow. The man was a fierce opponent to the reforms King Rhaegar and Queen Elia had undertaken on the status of women in Westeros.

The fanatics were strongly opposed to the liberty that the King had offered to women. As if women did not have the right to own their own property, or they did not have the right to occupy the places in society that they deserved. The best example was that of Brienne of Tarth, the young woman who had managed to join the War Academy several years before Jon. This caused a scandal at the time, many people had found it ridiculous... to his great shame, as Jon did. Not only had Brienne succeeded brilliantly at the Academy, but she had become one of the best elements of the Royal Army. Today she was Colonel Brienne, in charge of commanding Prince Aegon's personal battalion.

Nevertheless, Jon was more than intrigued by the reason for this crowd, curious as he approached them. They were gathered around a man who was to be the age of his father. This one wore the shabby white dress of the devotees and harangued the crowd that was gathered in force of gestures and pious words.

“Has not the Mother entrusted the woman with the power to give birth? By turning away from their legitimate places, do women not abandon their sacred duties?” he preached to the crowd, which hurled cheers at his words.

“Women are misguided and debauched!” yelled a man in the crowd.

“They steal our jobs!” said another.

Say rather that you were unfit for your job, Jon thought.

"Yes, my children! The Seven who are One tell us, an educated woman cannot give birth! I wish to show as proof Queen Elia! Or Princess Rhaenys who despite her marriage has still not given birth to any child! Worse still, Princess Daenerys who refuses to fulfil her sacred duty!"

Jon, who had a hard time keeping calm, gave in to the rage inside him and began to approach the crowd. Furious, he went straight to the preacher, his gun drawn. Luckily the members of the Urban Guard arrived at that time, blackjack in hand, and dispersed the crowd. The preacher fled quickly from the threatening faces of the men of the Guard.

“Fucking fanatic,” grunted the Sergeant, striking one of the robes-wearing men in the ribs, who bent pain. Soon other blows rained down on the man until he was lying on the ground unconscious and bleeding.

“Want more, retards? Get out of here! Or I will send you all to the grave!” the officer yelled to the men that were left.

Jon looked coldly at the crowd dispersing at the threat of the officer. The man with the sinister face stepped toward Jon, followed by another guard who suddenly seemed far less sure of himself. Noticing his rank, the brutal Sergeant gestured to his men, clearly not wanting to pick a fight with an Army officer. The Sergeant was massive, his shirt rolled up revealing forearms tattooed in patterns that time had almost erased. Scars strewed his calloused hands. His face also seemed to be scarified, but it did not look like brawling wounds, but rather patterns. While the Sergeant approached, the dark eyes of the man widened in recognition.

“White Wolf,” murmured the man with as much surprise as respect.

The surprise was also to Jon, the nickname of the White Wolf was used in the North and among the members of the Free Folk. The man's accent clearly pointed to him as a former inhabitant of the lands beyond the Wall. It was a total surprise. After the Battle of Castle Black, Prince Aegon took the controversial decision to negotiate with the surviving leaders of the Free Folk. At the end of the negotiations, about six thousand people had chosen to live by Westeros' laws, rather than remaining starving in the frozen land.

For Jon, it had not been a surprise that Aegon chose to do that. Both had spent almost six months in their company, learning to live in the harsh conditions of the True North. Jon had supported the decision of his friend, and that had led to the assassination attempt that had almost cost him his life. Many of his men and women were based at Cape Kraken, some of whom were enlisted in the Royal Army with the desire to serve under Jon's orders. Many of them served as an irregular unit.

“A man of the Free Folk, Sergeant in the Urban?” Jon wondered.

“Aye! And rather happy with that,” replied the man. “Greetings, White Wolf! Ah, I see you do not like the bullshit of sparrows?” he said, noticing the gun that Jon still had in his hand.

“Not really,” confirmed Jon, putting his gun to his belt. “Are these things common?” he asked, pointing to the makeshift platform where the agitator was held.

"Have no idea," growled the Northerner. "It started when their leader, the High Sparrow, was reunited with his other sparrows, what was it? A year ago? At first they were just a nuisance, but lately, they are taking their ease, becoming more violent too."

“More violent?” Jon worried.

“Aye aye, ransacking shops that hire wenches, beatings on the King's supporters, that sort of thing.”

It was worrisome, Jon had no idea that the social reforms of the King caused so much trouble. The North did not really resent the reforms. Many of them had been in use long before the Targaryens came to power more than three hundred years ago. Apart from the accepting the enlistment of women in the army, the rest of the edicts had been greeted with the utmost indifference.

Jon thought mockingly that it was probably for fear of being ashamed, that most of the women of the Free Folk who were enlisted were some of the best shooters of the Army. His own second, Val, was a warrior as beautiful as fierce. She was capable of bringing down a man at a distance as well as to gut him with a sword in hand.

Thinking of the blonde, reminded him how hard it had been at first for her. Many men had insinuated that Val had won her position by sleeping with Jon. Hearing these lies had been painful for him. It was Daenerys who had convinced him to let Val settle the matter by herself, she had explained to him that if he interfered it would only prove to his men that they were right. His beloved princess had the truth of it. In a masterful feat, Val had literally put an end to all the rumours within the garrison and the North in one brilliant stroke.

Jon thanked the Sergeant and then took leave of the company of the Urban Guard, hurrying to the nearest rail station. While leaving the place he could not help but take a contemptuous glance at the statue of former King Baelor.

Comfortably seated in the red velvet chair, Jon took advantage of the quick ride. The wagon left the old city precinct to the northern docks. On the other side of the city, he could see the industries whose chimneys spewed a black smoke.

The rail wagon left him close to the palace at the foot of Aegon's Hill. With a hasty step, he crossed the large square that formed an arc around the Red Keep.

There were three ways to reach the seat of power of Westeros. The most used, as well as the first to be built, was the wide paved street. Every day hundreds of people went up that road. The other two were funiculars, the first one, built on the North slope of the hill was used primarily to transport goods.

The second was reserved for the use of courtiers, as well as that of the members of the Army. The smallfolk had become accustomed to calling it the Dragon Flight, a name far more poetic than the one who officially designated it.

In addition to being much faster than riding a carriage up the road, the funicular offered a magnificent view of a large part of the city.

Jon passed the checkpoint unhindered before entering the luxurious towed cabin. Three other passengers were already comfortably seated in their seats. Two young women and a man in the blue and red uniform of the Riverlands. When Jon entered the two young women stopped talking, while the man stood at attention when he noticed his own dark uniform.

Greeting the guard back, Jon smiled courteously at the two ladies, who chuckled in response.

Preferring to avoid any nautilus talk during the twenty minutes ride Jon went to the rear of the wagon. Having no other business, he just observed the other passengers.

The guard in the Trident livery seemed to want to be everywhere except in the company of two young women. His empty gaze sometimes darkened with a gleam of irritation as he bore the chattering of the ladies.

Those were clearly members of the nobility rather than new money bourgeois. Their clothes were made of valuable and delicate lace fabric, jewellery highlighting their opulence. One of two young women was wearing a yellow dress, with a plunging neckline from which her opulent chest threatened to come out with every sudden movement. Her friend was wearing dark blue trousers and a sleeveless jacket with a white shirt underneath. Although more modest, her outfit effectively emphasized her feminine silhouette.

Both of them were probably headed to one of the tea parties that Queen Elia organized almost daily in the Maidenvault. Daenerys had often told him about these nobility gatherings. It was the perfect way for the Queen to increase her influence over the other nobles, especially in her desire to improve the conditions of women in the Seven Kingdoms.

This did not stop there, as many people were invited to present the fruits of their work. Scientists in search of financial support, artists of any profession seeking patrons, but also fashion designers coming to present their latest creations' to prominent members of the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms.

Jon greeted with joy the slowing of the funicular. Very quickly, he began before the wooden door decorated with metal dragons and set foot on the platform cut into the rock. Without waiting he walked toward the exit. Once outside he took the path that wound in the side of the hill. Above him, the Red Keep was casting an impressive shadow. Hastening, Jon quickly crossed the small bridge before climbing a wooden staircase. All around the path banners bearing the emblem of the Targaryen family floated in the wind.

Finally, after ten minutes of brisk walking, Jon entered the castle. He walked along the Grand Hall where the Iron Throne was before finally reaching the outer courtyard. He crossed it toward the ramparts and the drawbridge overlooking the courtyard. As he passed the Tower of the Hand, he was not surprised to see the red standards and the Golden Lion of House Lannister. To the displeasure of his father, Rhaegar had reinvested Tywin Lannister five years ago, after Jon Arryn took his leave to perfect the education of his heir Harrold Hardyng. Jon was rather neutral about the old Lion. He had been in contact with the man a mere three times in his life, only one of whom had seen a conversation between the two of them.

After the Tower of the Hand, he passed in front of the castle's Sept, which was now empty. Behind the building was the Virgins' Crypt, which resounded with the laughter and chuckles of women of the nobility. Daenerys had told him that the rebuilding of Maegor's Holdfast had forced her sister-in-law, Queen Elia, to hold her social events there. As he passed the windows, Jon ventured to take a look, hoping to catch a glimpse of his beloved's silver hair for a moment. Unfortunately for him, the only ladies who saw him were the nieces of the Queen, the infamous Sand Snakes. They did not hesitate to greet him or send him naughty winks, before turning to discuss between them, throwing on his way salacious looks, much to his chagrin.

In addition to the Dornish family of the Queen, the short look he had glanced had allowed him to see Margaery Tyrell. Jon knew the young woman especially thanks to his brother Robb who, before his marriage with Lady Jeyne, had been under the spell of the Rose of Highgarden. Beside her, the golden hair of Myrcella Lannister was recognizable from afar. The granddaughter of the Hand possessed all the beauty of her mother and was much more agreeable than the arrogant Cersei Lannister.

Pressing further as he heard the resounding of the castle's clock, he walked quickly through the steps of the long serpentine staircase that overlooked the lower court. From there he could admire the incredible Maegor's Holdfast. This one had undergone important works after the destruction caused by wildfire during the fall of the Mad King. Even today some wings of the castle were empty of any occupant. In front of the entrance to Maegor's Holdfast, Jon had the pleasant surprise of discovering that they were waiting for him. He was soon engulfed in a powerful and warm embrace by his maternal uncle.

"When I was told you were at the entrance to the Red Keep, I hurried off my post, nephew," Arthur explained. "By the Seven, Jon, how good it is to see you again!"

And it was true, it had been almost a year since Jon had last seen his uncle. In occasion of Jon's last visit to King's Landing, Arthur had been to Blackhaven to greet his sister, Lady Allyria Dondarrion. Jon gave his uncle an embrace with equal pleasure.

The Sword of the Morning, the greatest and most famous knight of the Seven Kingdoms, the epitome of chivalry. Coming out of the embrace, Jon detailed his uncle. Arthur was tall, a whole head taller than Jon, and powerfully built. A big smile lit his tanned face, making more visible than their last meeting the wrinkles around his eyes. His black hair had strands of white around the temples. However, far from making him look ugly, it only made him more handsome, at least according to the many ladies who lamented his vows. As usual, he wore his famous sword, Dawn, on his back.

“How are you doing, Jon?” asked uncle Arthur, laying his hand on his shoulder, worry as much as joy dancing in his purple eyes.

“I'm fine, uncle, no new scar to add to my collection,” joked Jon with mixed emotions.

“Thank the Old Gods and the New for this little grace, your mother would haunt me until the end of my days if something happened to you again!” Arthur dramatically said while directing his nephew to the massive oak doors of the fortress.

Jon smiled bitterly at the mention of his mother, Ashara Dayne.

“Let's go, Rhaegar is still busy in a council meeting, but I did inform him of your arrival. He should be here shortly.”

“Do you know why the King summoned me, uncle Arthur?” Jon asked after a moment.

“Yes. But His Majesty will explain it to you much better than me in a moment. Jon, it's very important, believe me,” the knight replied. Turning to look at him, at his uncle's eyes, Jon knew it was true.

Jon licked his lips, even more worried now about the reason for his presence here. He continued to follow his uncle, deciding to change the subject he chose to silence him, keeping his numerous questions in his head.

“Ah! Perfect,” informed his uncle, “The King is already in his study.”

Before the carved door was another member of the Royal Guard, Meryn Trant, an individual who according to Jon should not even have the right to keep pigs. His uncle seemed to share the same opinion, judging from the dry and disdainful manner in which he addressed his sworn brother.

“You can go, Trant,” Arthur ordered.

“The King-”

“I said go.” Arthur approached the other knight, clearly dominating the man. The latter made a disagreeable face before finally taking off.

“Idiot," murmured his uncle once he disappeared into the corridors.

“Why take him in the Royal Guard, uncle? Rickon could defeat him in a duel without any problem!”

“Politics,” Arthur replied bitterly. “Wait here, I'll see if our King can receive you.”

Jon patiently waited, he did not expect, however, for it to take so long. To his delight, he saw the Prince Aegon with several people at the other end of the corridor. When the Prince spotted him, a big smile lit up his face. On a whim, the Prince was before him, slamming his shoulders in an enthusiastic greeting.

"Jon! What a pleasure to see you again," said the Prince.

“Hello, Prince Aegon,” Jon returned with equal pleasure.

“Lieutenant-Colonel,” said another, much more sour voice that belonged to Aegon's cousin, Prince Quentyn.

“Prince,” greeted Jon in return, his tone neutral. For some reason that had always eluded Jon, the Dornish Prince had never liked him.

“I see you've left your icy North,” Quentin continued, “Are you looking for some heat?”

Before Jon could answer, however, Aegon spoke. “Jon came at the request of my father, the King,” he explained.

“Truly? And how could the humble illegitimate son of the Governor of the North be useful to the King?” asked another voice, mocking and scornful.

The man to whom the voice belonged instantly elicited a spark of antipathy within Jon. Harrold Hardyng, the heir to the Vale. Jon had met him at the Academy, while Jon Arryn's son was still alive. Almost immediately the young man had taken a dislike to Jon. Their enmity only increased with time, especially when it was Jon who found Princess Daenerys in the streets of Pentos.

Hardyng had wanted to be the one who found Daenerys because he had hoped that by doing so he could finally prove himself worthy of Dany's hand. Unfortunately for Harry, the only thing that would offer him a minimum of sympathy from Daenerys was to squeeze his sword into his stomach.

Before Jon could answer the fourth person came out of his silence.

“This is not a way to greet your superior, Lieutenant,” corrected Ser Barristan Selmy, without even looking at Harold, who made a bitter grin that seemed to please Quentyn and Prince Aegon a lot.

“Yes, my apologies, Lieutenant Colonel. I was just surprised by your presence here.”

“You're excused, Lieutenant Hardyng. As for my being here, I am afraid that it's not of your concern,” replied Jon, experiencing a wild joy at the reminder that he was indeed his superior within the Royal Army.

Hardyng did not answer, preferring to wallow in sulky silence.

“I am unfortunately expected,” Aegon informed. “But I hope we can catch up soon? Perhaps we can duel?” Aegon asked hopefully.

Jon smiled fondly at the thought, Aegon was probably one of the best swordsmen he knew.

“I would love that, my Prince. I owe you a rematch, after all,” Jon smiled.

“Really, cousin? You let yourself be defeated by the Lieutenant Colonel?” mockingly commented Prince Martell.

The implication of Quentyn's words was lost to no one. Even Hardyng looked at the Dornish Prince as if he had grown a second head. The answer, however, came from the interruption his uncle Arthur provided, coldly addressing Quentyn.

“I can assure you that both my nephew and Prince Aegon are by no means the type to be defeated. Unlike others whose names we will not mention... Prince Quentyn.”

Quentyn flushed with embarrassment, which intrigued Jon. What was Arthur talking about? Aegon and Ser Barristan both kept a straight face, even if Jon could see the gleam of amusement in the purple eyes of the Crown Prince, a mocking glance slightly tinged with contempt. On the other hand, Harry did not have the slightest problem scoffing in derision, looking at the Prince of Dorne with blatant disgust. Strange.

“Jon, the King will receive you,” his uncle told him, pointing to the entrance of the King's study.

Jon took a deep breath before crossing the threshold, a thousand questions in mind as he approached the most powerful man in Westeros.


	2. Daenerys 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introduce Princess Daenerys Targaryen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to Thescarletgarden for translate the chapter in English! Thank you <3  
> The moodboard is the creation of justwanderingneverlost! Thank my dear!  
> Oh! Don't forget to thank tiduss for motivated me to write the little smut xD

Princess Daenerys Targaryen was enthroned at the middle of a large U-shaped table. A dozen other people were there too, listening to the report of a naval officer. She was dressed in her navy blue uniform, her tricorn hat held under her arm. The captain offered them the report of the last Summer Isles expedition in the meeting room of the Westeros Royal Trading Company.

 

His report echoed the dozens of others they had heard throughout the past few days. Captain Buckwell brought them disturbing news from the Summer Isles' archipelago about an attack from the Blackfyre Trading Company, which seemed to take more and more scale, harming their so far undisputed trade with the countless princes that littered the archipelago. Disturbing, yes, but manageable. It was only commercial rivalry, diplomacy and negotiation could solve the problem. Two things which Tyrion Lannister, the director of their factory in Ebonhead, mastered perfectly.

 

“The attack did not do any damage, either to the ship or the cargo,” Buckwell finished.

 

This was the real problem. The pirates. All the captains of the commercial vessels had informed them of the increase in the attack on the ships. Pirates attacked indiscriminately, whether the ships were flying the black or red dragon. The sealed report that Tyrion Lannister had given her also expressed the growing concern of their allies on the islands.

 

Daenerys looked around her, meeting the gaze of the other members of the commission. None seemed to want to ask the sailor any more questions.

 

“Thank you for your report, Captain Buckwell. You're dismissed.”

 

At Daenerys' words, the sailor snapped his heels and gave a military salute. For a moment, the young princess could detect a collective burst of relief. The room then plunged into silence as the captain moved away, the only noises coming from the creakings of the wooden floor under the weight of his boots. Once the door was closed, the whispered discussions began.

 

Daenerys let them go on, the young princess reflected immersed in her own thoughts. At the moment there was very little that she could do. Not without a more accurate report from the director of the Ebonhead factory, Tyrion Lannister. Deploying more escort ships could jeopardize diplomatic and commercial agreements with the various princes of the archipelago. And even then, a more muscular answer could only be enforced by order of the King.

 

They also had their closest allies, the Princes and Princesses, to take into account. Their only true ally was the princess of Jhala. The latter may have willingly accepted the installation of a garrison and even authorized the creation of three Westerosi settlements on her island; her rivals, on the other hand, were much less interested or even wary of an alliance with the Crown of Westeros.

 

Daenerys held a sigh, she would have to discuss it with her brother.

 

“The problems of piracy have always been a risk,” commented one of the advisers. “The King could perhaps authorize the embarkation of artillery on the ships?” suggested Arnold Timsh.

 

“His Majesty my brother will refuse, the Company's nature is purely commercial and not military,” the Princess firmly rebutted, darting a stern glance at the adviser. “Nevertheless it is a good suggestion,” appeased Daenerys, anxious not to offend one of her allies on the commission.

 

Timsh was a bourgeois who had made wealth through his talents rather than through his legacy. This earned him much contempt as he climbed to the position he held today. His talent had earned him the appointment as one of the directors of the Company. He was also one of Daenerys' biggest supporters.

 

“Maybe more guards in the ships would deter the pirates?” suggested Kevan Lannister. Unlike Timsh, Kevan had been appointed by her brother to appease the Lannister family.

 

“The costs would be far too great, even if only a handful of men were on board.” The objection came from Petyr Baelish, the second Director. “Can it be by decreasing wages?” he suggested with one of his smiles that gave Daenerys the temptation to tear his eyes away.

 

“I beg you, Director Baelish, to go on the docks to say that to our employees," she scoffed.

 

“A lower wage in exchange for better security will be accepted, if sold well,” Kevan reflected.

 

“All this is fine, but I doubt that sparing any copper on a sailor's pay is the best way to secure the ships. Maybe we could have those sailors go through a shooting practice?” Timsh suggested while looking at her.

 

It was actually a very good idea. At the other end of the table, Kevan also seemed to agree with that. On his left, Baelish looked like he had swallowed a particularly bitter lemon. The little Lord of the Fingers and Timsh had a deep rivalry almost bordering on hatred.

 

The discussion continued for another half an hour. As it often happened, the decision was postponed. Daenerys, however, noted that Kevan spent a great deal of time talking quietly with his neighbour, Tommen Lannister. The young man was silent all morning, speaking almost exclusively with his grand-uncle. A nice change after having to bear the presence of Joffrey, Tommen's older brother. In the almost unanimous opinion of the management, Joffrey was a fool, whose lack of intelligence was only rivaled by his arrogance.

 

Joffrey was currently being held as far away from the court or any public event as possible by his grandfather Tywin. In the opinion of all, it was a blessing. Apart from his mother, Joffrey had managed to attract the enmity of almost all the people who had the misfortune to meet him. Tywin, it was said, had almost killed his grandson, the reasons were not known, and even Daenerys could not extract any information from Rhaegar and his Master Spy, Lord Varys. At the age of eighteen, Tommen was the one who was most likely to succeed Tywin as the Overlord of the Westerlands.

 

"Director Baelish, can you give us an indication of the benefits of this expedition?" Daenerys asked, turning to the mockingbird.

 

Baelish grinned widely before answering, “I can already offer a provisional balance sheet, the benefits for this expedition should be between 80,000 and 90,000 Gold Dragons. Of course the amount may change depending on the market, but I am rather confident about it."

 

The announcement was very well received by the other council members. However, Daenerys was not satisfied, her secret correspondence with Tyrion announced a much greater profit. This was not the first time she had encountered this kind of problem, and she was increasingly suspecting that some of the goods were fueling the black market, or worse, the insurgents in the Stormlands.

 

"This is great news," she nodded. “I think we can conclude this meeting for today. Or is there anything else?”

 

“One last thing. I think I can speak on behalf of all, to felicitate you, installing the new Wildfire turbines has decreased travel time by almost a month!” praised Arnold Timsh. “And this despite the... doubts that many of us had. Congratulations, your Highness.”

 

Daenerys' chest swelled with pride: after two years of bitter negotiation to modernize the fleet, her idea was recognized. Currently, only six ships had been updated thanks to the new wildfire/coal turbine machine, created by the Academy. Daenerys hoped that with the favorable reports that were going to be sent to her, she could influence the creation of new vessels equipped with this technology.

 

“I thank you for your words, gentlemen. We can close this meeting.”

 

After exchanging common courtesies, Princess Daenerys went to the rear exit of the offices of the Westeros Royal Trading Company, very reluctant to discuss with any of the directors of the various factories that gradually arrived in the capital for participating in the annual meeting. As Governor appointed by her brother Rhaegar, it was up to her to arbitrate and monitor that everything was going well in the gigantic Commercial Company.

 

At her back, three Unsullied commanded by Grey Worm walked in their black uniforms. For seven years now the former slaves had taken the place of the white cloaks that usually kept safe the members of the royal family.

 

Descending the service staircase, Daenerys arrived on the second floor, several dozen people were sitting in the offices. Unsurprisingly, almost none of the clerics seemed to care about the passage of the small group, all too busy with their business. Sometimes one of them was hailing one of his colleagues, but it was in silence, only disturbed by the clicks of the typewriters, that she passed the work area to take a last staircase.

 

The waxed floor gave way to cut stone, while as they advanced through the bowels of the headquarters they could feel a slight buzzing and vibration under their feet, coming from the basement where the boilers and Wildfire generators that supplied electricity to the entire building could be found.

 

Holding a sigh, she went out into the backyard of the building where there was a railcar with the three-headed dragon engraved on the doors. Standing next to the vehicle was her secretary and trusted companion, Missandei, also a former slave. The young woman gave the Princess a happy smile as they all settled into the luxurious wagon.

 

“Several letters arrived at the Manor”, Missandei informed her.

 

Daenerys rolled her eyes, which did not fail to make her secretary smile maliciously. The Princess knew perfectly well which kind of letters she had the pleasure to receive.

 

“I have not even been back to King's Landing for twenty-four hours and I'm already being harassed by suitors,” she complained. “How many?”

 

“Only five. Prince Aegon, however, sent an invitation for tea.”

 

“My nephew probably wants to learn more about the demonstration that I witnessed at the Academy. I forgot to ask you last night, but did you hear any news from Rhaenys? Is she still in the Iron Islands negotiating with Lady Asha?”

 

Missandei took a few seconds to think about the question. As always when Princess Rhaenys was mentioned, her young friend blushed slightly, the shameless flirtation with which her niece indulged her pretty servant never failed to amuse Daenerys.

 

“No, your Highness, Princess Rheanys is still on the Iron Islands. Her last telegram said that the negotiations were going very well.” The Naathi's mischievous smile left no doubt about what she thought the nature of the "negotiations" between Asha Greyjoy and Rhaenys was.

 

“I see,” said Daenerys.

 

Then she turned her gaze to the window. The Company's offices had been built on the south shore of the Blackwater at the western end. The railcar ran along the docks of the city. These were animated, as always. From her elevated point of view, Daenerys could see the dockers clear the ships. Whether by hand or with steel cranes, they unloaded food from distant lands or from Westeros.

 

Several meters away, she recognized the smell of their arrival on the fishing district. The indescribable aroma of the products of the fishing filled her nostrils, even the Unsullied, whose terrible training had rendered stoic, made a very discreet grimace to the smell. This made her think of one of the reflections she had heard from a lord of the Riverlands who did not understand why the tenants of his buildings went regularly on the outskirts of this neighborhood.

 

It was with relief that she felt the vehicle slow down. It meant only one thing: they had arrived at the bridge, the huge metal structure that spanned the Blackwater and connected the two shores of the city. Built during the reign of her father the Mad King, it was probably the only benevolent inheritance that the madman had left to Westeros. Formerly known as Aerys' Bridge, King Rhaegar chose to rename it Alysanne's Bridge, more simply called by the inhabitants of the city “the Good Queen's Bridge”.

 

Powered by the power of the Wildfire, the bridge could rise, allowing the largest ships to pass underneath. It was no surprise to her when Daenerys saw that the ships passing the bridge were flying the Company's flag. Apart from the Royal Fleet, only the merchant vessels of the Company necessitated the lifting of the bridge. It was her lucky day, the ship seemed almost done passing under the bridge.

 

Curious, Daenerys scrutinized the white markings on the dark metal hull of the liner. _Zenith_ , Daenerys searched in her memory where the ship was coming from. While the sirens warned everyone of the descent of the bridge, it came back to her. The ship was returning from a long ten-month trip to Great Moraq, where their most distant commercial factory was. For the moment anyway, many among the Royal Court were hoping for the construction of a factory in distant Yi-Ti.

 

The Zenith had departed from Westeros with ten other ships as well as a few escorts, a fleet of twenty-five ships. Turning her head towards the Blackwater Bay, Daenerys was able to see the imposing shadows of three other steamers in the distance, anchoring while waiting to be able to be unloaded of their goods. The other ships of the fleet were to be unloaded in the other ports of the continent, Oldtown, White Harbor and Lannisport.

 

Finally their journey resumed, crossing the metal bridge in a few minutes, passing the cabs and other carts. Barely five minutes after crossing the Blackwater Bay, the vehicle passed the Mud Gate, even after the modernization of the old city, the access had unsightly kept its name. The wagon ran on the rails above the Street of Steel. All around the street, huge buildings rose. Sometimes billboards advertised the merits of some products, posters for the Northern Whiskey rubbed shoulders with the Royal Army recruiting banners. It was not the best part of the trip for the passengers, the whitened buildings and the dark metal left a dull landscape from their elevated point of view.

 

The view, however, changed again after ten minutes, this time the rails ran along Rhaella's Park, sign for Daenerys that she was close to her mansion. Located at the north end of the park and surrounded by greenery, Daenerys had bought the Silverwing Manor after returning to Westeros with the former slaves she had taken into her service. It was also a discreet place where her beloved could join her without fear of prying eyes.

 

Thinking of Jon made her sigh unhappily, it had been three months since they'd both been able to see each other. Three months were too long for her taste, she sincerely hoped that they could meet very soon. Maybe after the annual gathering?

 

 _Gods old and new, I miss Jon_ , thought Daenerys.

 

“Princess Daenerys, we're arrived,” informed Grey Worm while opening the railcar door.

 

Looking up at the imposing manor, Daenerys could not help but smile, very happy to find the quietude of her house. She had to leave again very soon, she could barely take the time to refresh her outfit and eat a bite before reaching her study at the Red Keep. As usual, however, she took the time to greet her maids one by one.

 

Irri, Jiqui and Doreah, just like Missandei and the Unsullied, were former slaves she had taken to her service after the tragic events of Pentos. The memory made Daenerys shudder, it was the first time that she was hit hard by the ravages of the war, the _coup d'etat_ of the Tattered Prince, the landing of the royal troops and the discovery of the betrayal of Illyrio Mopatis who sold her to Khal Drogo. The occupation of the city by the conqueror's troops, the purges that followed, had forced Daenerys to flee into the lowlands of the city.

 

Daenerys drove the bad memories out of her mind, preferring to concentrate on choosing her outfit for the Royal Palace.

 

After her meal, Daenerys, accompanied by her four maids, changed into a more dignified outfit, in the words of her sister-in-law.

 

Like a well-choreographed dance, her maids immediately went to their posts, and Jiqui and Irri made their way to the closet. Missandei began to take care of her silver hair while Doreah informed her of the letters she had received.

 

Knowing the preferences of their mistress, Irri and Jiqui brought a pair of dark red trousers with a straight cut.

 

“A heresy in the eyes of the Sparrows, a delicious shock for the ladies of the court,” Jiqui commented with a mutinous smile, while unfolding a blouse of white linen and offering it to her mistress.

 

Unlike her, and like her mother, the young Princess appreciated sober and elegant outfits more than the colorful ones that were fashionable.

 

Irri presented two sleeveless vests to Daenerys. After a brief hesitation, her choice fell on the vest of black leather, finely embroidered with red velvet in a pattern reminiscent of the scales of a dragon, which the former slave helped her to put on.

 

At her feet, she chooses to wear black leather ankle boots with silver buckles. She put on a red silk tie with gold motifs around the neck, to which she added a silver tie pin set with a gemstone.

 

Satisfied by her reflection on the mirror, she suddenly noticed the disappearance of an object that was close to her heart.

 

Terrified, she looked around the room under the worried eyes of her maids, searching for the object that was missing. She was relieved when, with a reassuring smile, Doreah gave her the item that in her eyes was a real treasure. Carefully taking it from her friend's hands by the fine silver chain, she looked with interest at the pocket watch at the end, which was slightly larger than the palm of her hand. Many could say it was unworthy of a woman of her rank, rather than of a precious metal, it was made of sturdy steel. Its exterior was devoid of any extravagant engraving.

 

Her face lit up with a radiant smile as she pressed the tiny opening button. Engraved in the back of the lid, it was a simple inscription, whose trait drawn carefully with a knife did not fail to make Daenerys sigh happily.

 

_Oh, Jon, I cannot wait to see you again._

 

In a snap, she closed the watch, and, still smiling, she hung it on her waistcoat.

 

“Missandei, warn Grey Worm that we are leaving in five minutes for the Red Keep,” she ordered, turning to her secretary.

 

Missandei just nodded before leaving the room. Seeing nothing else to add, Daenerys merely greeted her three maids.

 

The Princess spent the afternoon in the comfortable silence of her study in the palace, reading, commenting and correcting several reports from different factories owned by the Westeros Royal Trading Company. It was with great satisfaction that she read them, despite the fierce competition that the Black Dragon Company offered them, things were going well.

 

The Black Dragon Trading Company was created after the defeat of Robert Baratheon and King Jaehaerys Blackfyre three years ago. Taking advantage of the Greyjoy rebellion, since called the Balon Folly, the Blackfyre, aided by Robert Baratheon's loyalists who had an irrational hatred of the Targaryens, had invaded Westeros from the Stormlands, through Robert's former stronghold, who had fallen to his little brother Stannis Baratheon after the failure of his rebellion.

 

After the Royal Army had defeated the invaders, they decided to establish their new kingdom along the Rhoyne in Essos. Since then, the young kingdom had been growing at an alarming rate. Many thought they were preparing a new invasion. Generals like Randyll Tarly very often called for invading them and ending the Blackfyre lineage in a definitive way. The Royal Family officially supported the idea of a prudent peace. The country had after all known two rebellions and two invasions in only twenty years.

 

Some regions, like the Riverlands, still bore the scars of the recent war. In her opinion, the problem came from their overlords, the Tullys, not trustworthy enough. Their Lord, Edmure Tully, was barely fit to ride, so directing and arbitrating the quarrels of his vassals seemed to be impossible. It was a miracle that the region did not sink into anarchy already.

 

To be honest, Daenerys thought that the creation of the Riverlands by her ancestor Aegon was a mistake. It would have been better to divide the area between the Crownlands, the North and the Westerlands. Alas, today it was impossible to change that. As hypocritical as Eddard Stark was, he had no choice but to defend his brother-in-law.

 

Daenerys undoubtedly had a huge bias against Eddard Stark and the Tully family. A bitterness that dated back to the end of the war. Jon had defended the North emptied of all its fighters with his regiment against the assaults of the Ironborn, while his brother Robb Stark was busy taking maritime fortresses empty of any man in the Iron Islands.

 

He had barely hunted the Ironborn pests than Jon was ordered to join him in the Riverlands, with his army and the free companies of Wildling immigrants to fight against the invader Blackfyre and Robert. Joining Aegon at Harrenhall, he and Jon had to keep the ruined castle and the lands around the Gods Eye with their meager troops. When finally the army that had defied the Greyjoy's rebellion could come to reinforce and break the enemy lines, Rhaegar, pushed by Aegon, offered Jon legitimacy. One thing that her beloved wholeheartedly desired... a vain hope, the Tullys' and Eddard Stark's protests put an end to Jon's dream.

 

It was also Daenerys' broken hope, that of finally being able to live their romance to the light of day, without the risk that the shadow of Jon's birth could spoil their hopes. To be honest with herself, Daenerys had, more than once, caressed the dream of defying conventions and marry Jon in secret, putting her family before the accomplished fact. Unfortunately, for that it was necessary to find a Septon who would accept... while keeping the secret until it was time to let her family know the truth. It was almost impossible. Not to mention that she doubted that Jon would accept a marriage that was dangerously similar to that of Rhaegar and Lyanna Stark.

 

The Princess was distracted from her depressing thoughts by her secretary.

 

"Princess Daenerys, Prince Aegon is here to see you,” the Naathi announced to her.

 

“Has he managed to escape his sycophants?” Daenerys laughed.

 

“It would seem so, Princess. Although Ser Hardyng and Prince Quentyn needed to be told it was a private meeting."

 

Missandei shook her head, disillusioned on the behavior of the two men.

 

Daenerys just groaned, accustomed to the foolishness of her two most fervent contenders. One of them, however, had been refused her hand when she chose to go to Pentos. Daenerys was looking forward to the day when she could break their pathetic hopes.

 

The door of her study opened, revealing the happy smile of her nephew. Daenerys raised an eyebrow, Aegon's mood was remarkably joyous. She was rather accustomed to seeing a frank relief on his fine features after he got rid of his courtiers.

 

“Aunt,” Aegon greeted with a big smile.

 

“Nephew, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” the young woman saluted in return.

 

Daenerys suspected a little of the reason for Aegon's coming. The young Prince had to replace her at the last minute at the annual Academy's visit. The many meetings and interviews she had to do after the return of the fleet had prevented her from traveling. If she was completely honest with herself, Daenerys regretted not having been able to go there, the numerous presentations of the scientists as well as the conferences they gave never failed to impassion her.

 

Aegon did not seemed fooled either, since he just sniffed in derision while taking a seat on the chair in front of her.

 

“I think you're wondering, after all, you insisted that I give you a full report as soon as possible,” Aegon explained.

 

“Yes, that's right, then? What did you see during the presentations?”

 

Aegon thought for a moment, testing Daenerys' patience who was eager to know what innovations the brains of the Academy might have created.

 

“Not much, it was mostly project debuts or finalized versions of last year's ones. However, an invention in particular caught my attention,” admitted Aegon.

 

Knowing her nephew, there was a good chance that the invention that caught his attention was designed to make war. To her astonishment, however, this was not the case this time.

 

“This inventor managed to capture a scene, a bit like a photograph, except that it moved. It was simply amazing!” Aegon seemed totally thrilled by what he had seen. “You should have seen that! The movements were absolutely screaming reality!”

 

“Really?” Daenerys was astonished, too, by the description that Aegon offered her.

 

“Absolutely!”

 

For nearly half an hour, Aegon continued to tell her what he had seen in the Academy's Inventor's Hall. More than once Daenerys regretted that she could not have been there.

 

“And you, my aunt? Have you been able to discover what's happening on the docks?” Aegon asked.

 

Almost immediately her good mood flew away. The “problem on the docks" was what worried her for over a year now.

 

“I did not really advance," sighed Daenerys, rubbing her temples. “On the other hand, my plan with Tyrion has, I finally have evidence to provide to Rhaegar.”

 

“Really? It is not good news.”

 

“Yes, someone is stealing, Aegon, and not just a few, millions of Golden Dragons by my estimation, and only for this expedition.”

 

“Seven hells! Do you already know what could have been stolen?”

 

“It would be quicker if you asked me what was not taken,” Daenerys quipped, shaking her head. “Non-perishable foods, raw materials, medicinal plants and tissues, in short almost everything,” she listed.

 

Aegon did not answer right away. It was very serious news, the implications frightening. The scale of the network had to be huge.

 

“Does this also implies the other factories? Oldtown? Lannisport? White Harbor?”

 

“No, only King's Landing is affected, for now anyway.”

 

"At least some good news," replied the Prince, sighing.

 

Daenerys just nodded. The Royal Princess had her suspicions about the members of this organization. Unfortunately, suspicions without proof were of no use to her. Her brother had been very clear, he wanted proof before acting.

 

“Oh! Speaking of good news, guess who I saw in front of father's office?” Aegon suddenly exclaimed, a big smile on his lips.

 

As her only answer Daenerys gave him a gloomy look. She did not like riddles. Aegon, on the contrary, seemed to be extremely amused by the situation, sitting there and smirking like a fool. The Princess contented herself with staring at her nephew, who finally uttered a sigh of defeat.

 

“Jon Snow.”

 

The name had the effect of a bomb on Daenerys, whose face opened with a gigantic smile.

 

“Jon is here? Since when? Why?” asked the Princess.

 

“Yes, since this afternoon, I think. Why, on the other hand, I do not know, father summoned him a few days ago,” informed Aegon with a happy smile.

 

“And you did not tell me anything?” protested Daenerys.

 

“I wanted to surprise you,” Aegon explained simply.

 

Daenerys just looked at her nephew again, a deadly flash in her eyes. It was a lost opportunity, if Aegon had informed her, Daenerys could have made the arrangements necessary for Jon to be hosted at the manor, or at least set up a discreet encounter after his meeting with her brother.

 

Aegon rolled his eyes. “Don't worry, I took care of everything with the help of your maids,” he confessed, seeming very proud of himself.

 

“What do you mean?” Daenerys asked, blinking in confusion.

 

“I did not tell you a thing, but I informed Missandei. She took care of everything. We even arranged for you to join him in the Abandoned Wing. Am I not the best of your nephews?” Aegon laughed.

 

"You are my only nephew," Daenerys replied. “And no, Arianne Martell's child is not my nephew," she growled, with undisguised contempt for the Prince's cousin.

 

Aegon winced, but said nothing, the paternity of Daeron "Targaryen", son of Arianne and Viserys, was one of the few subjects of disagreement that the two members of the Royal Family had. Daenerys was not alone in questioning the paternity of the child, her own mother, Queen Dowager Rhaella, shared her doubts.

 

 _Seven hells, almost all the males in the Red Keep could be the father of the child_ , she thought. She did not say it out loud so as not to hurt Aegon.

 

"I'm going to take my leave," Aegon told her. “Greet Jon for me, if you do not mind? Remind him that I look forward to our duel,” he joked.

 

Daenerys shook her head. It had become a habit for Aegon to cover them, the relationship that Daenerys had with Jon receiving his full support. And for good reason, according to Aegon, Jon was probably his best friend.

 

Maegor's Holdfast. Daenerys just like most people avoided going to these rooms. As she walked in silence she could feel the weight of the horrors her father had committed in the last days of his reign. Molten stone and bullet holes, here and there, she could still see the traces of the brutal fighting that took place there while the last loyalists of his father led their last blows in a fight as vain as bloody.

 

The Dements of Aerys, it was thus that the regiment of Flame-Dragon that the Mad King cherished had been nicknamed. Armed with their formidable Wildfire flamethrowers, they were former convicts, hardened criminals who had been offered the choice of joining the army. Strangely, they were Aerys' most loyal soldiers. Going as far as to die on the steps of his throne to protect the madman whose she had the misfortune of being the daughter of.

 

Her brother Rhaegar had been reluctant to restore the Holdfast, the weight of memories, he had said, was too heavy. Even stepping into his room was painful to him. Even within the common people, there was talk of a curse, some worker who had restored the lower floor had sworn he had heard Aerys' cackling, even heard his last words: _Burn them all!_

 

It was with a sigh of relief that she did not know she was holding that Daenerys went beyond the heavy iron gates that blocked the access to the throne room where her father and his followers had fought their final battle. Daenerys kept a vivid memory of the one time she entered the empty room. Everything from floor to ceiling was disfigured, as if the door of the Underworld had been opened for a moment.

 

The rest of her journey was much better, her eagerness to see her beloved almost gave her wings. Daenerys had already used the chamber in question several times. It was part of the old quarters of Queen Visenya, unused since the days of Aegon the Unlikely. It had been very easy to make the room usable for her and Jon, for their discreet encounters while they were in the capital.

 

Finally Daenerys arrived in front of the door, her heart pounding as she slowly pushed it open. Her eyes wandered around the room, seeking the gaze of her heart's chosen one. The large room was only furnished with a huge bed. There was also a big round table with two chairs. She felt the gentle breeze of the sea and immediately knew where Jon was.

 

Locking the door behind her, Daenerys headed for the balcony overlooking the Blackwater Bay. She chose this room especially for its balcony, which was invisible to everyone. Even the guards patrolling the roof could not see it, thanks to a small awning that hid its occupants from sight.

 

As she suspected, Jon was on the balcony, his back turned, admiring the phenomenal view of the Bay.

 

Her Jon was a breathtaking vision in his dark uniform. His hair was pulled back, restrained by a red ribbon. Jon wore the black uniform jacket with golden stripes on his shoulders, the fit form hugging his body, letting her see the outline of his powerful muscles. His midnight blue pants with a thin red stripe running down his thighs and his knee-high boots completed the sight. His left hand rested on the pommel of his sword, shaped as a wolf's head, while on the other side was the case containing his service weapon.

 

The sight reminded her of the ancient Kings of Winter who had reigned with an iron fist on the North before the arrival of his family. In her eyes, Jon looked regal.

 

Daenerys slowly approached him, wrapping her arms around her lover's waist and snuggling into his back, breathing deeply into his scent.

 

_Gods old and new, this is what I missed._

 

Jon made a funny noise as he turned to face her. His storm-colored eyes looked at her with love as he cupped her cheek to kiss her. The kiss was tender but needy, and once they parted Jon rested his forehead against hers.

 

“I missed you, my love,” he whispered softly.

 

“Me too, Jon," she said, snuggling against him, her head in the crook of his neck.

 

The next few minutes passed in a comfortable silence, the two young lovers simply enjoying the presence of one another.

 

“Why did my brother summon you?” Daenerys asked, her eyes reflecting as much curiosity as worry.

 

To her amazement, Jon seemed a little sheepish, slightly hesitant. Daenerys put her hand on his cheek, gently stroking it while smiling at him.

 

“Several things,” Jon sighed. “I have to inspect the defenses of the city and report back to the King first. And also share my military experiences in urban combat with the Royal Army officers.”

 

“It's wonderful, Jon! Why do you worry, my love?”

 

“I... you're probably right, and I'm worried about nothing, it's just that... some are, in theory, my superiors... and trueborn,” the last bit was murmured.

 

Unwillingly, Daenerys felt rage again. She hated to see Jon so unhappy, and she hated even more the people who made him unhappy.

 

_Cursed be the Tullys and Lord Stark._

 

The Princess nodded sadly before putting her arms around Jon's neck.

 

"I'm sure everything will be fine, Jon. I trust you, my love," she assured him as he kissed her. “How much I missed you," she whispered as she felt Jon's hands wander down her back.

 

"Really, your Highness?” Jon asked, grasping her buttocks.

 

Daenerys hummed her agreement, enjoying the feel of Jon's hands on her ass.

 

"And if I showed you, officer?” she whispered, starting to unbutton Jon's jacket.

 

“With great pleasure, your Highness,” Jon murmured in return while hugging her.

 

The buttons were quickly opened, and Jon's jacket joined the floor, quickly followed by the sleeveless vest. Without leaving Jon's lips, Daenerys started pulling Jon's shirt from his pants.

 

"You're wearing too much clothing," Jon growled, his eyes filled with lust. An idea sprang up in Daenerys' mind, the memory of a discussion she had heard at court.

 

The young Princess grabbed Jon by the tie, her lover exhaling a half plaintive, half-excited groan. Smiling excitedly, Daenerys brought him back to their temporary chambers.

 

Once in front of the bed, she turned to face Jon. Amused, she could see that he had intended to push her back on the bed.

 

“Impatient, my love?”

 

Without waiting for an answer from him, Daenerys pushed him down on the mattress.

 

Her Jon seemed hypnotized while with deliberate slowness Daenerys turned, amused, and began to undress. The sleeveless vest first, then she turned to face him once again. Slowly, she unbuttoned her silk shirt, Jon's dark eyes ceaselessly following the movements of her hands. Her lover seemed utterly lost in the vision she offered him as she dropped the silk shirt, showing him her white lace bra.

 

Once again, she turned her back to Jon to open her pants, sliding it down her hips. She unhooked her bra, suddenly stopping her motions. Turning towards him, she delighted to see that Jon was also undressed. Sitting naked, his hard cock in plain view, Daenerys licked her lips while her own sex soaked the white silk of her panties. She wanted him now.

 

His lips immediately find his way to hers, while Jon's hands took place on her buttocks. Without breaking the kiss, Daenerys took his member and guided him inside her. While she slipped on his cock, Daenerys moaned with pleasure, setting to ride him energetically.

 

"It's been too long," Jon growled as he lowered his head to one of her breasts. Daenerys lost herself in the beloved feeling of having the man she loved inside her. He gently bit at her nipple, bringing her back to the moment and making her sigh in pleasure.

 

In a sneaky movement, her beloved laid her down on the bed. Daenerys ran her hands through Jon's hair, smirking, undoing the knot that held it back. His curly hair released, the Princess took great pleasure in burying her hands in it as she pulled Jon to her. At the same moment, Jon began his comings and goings inside her.

 

Daenerys's head rested on Jon's chest, her lover's eyes half-closed as he caressed the Princess's back with love.

 

“I missed you so much,” he said in a whisper.

 

“I missed you too, my love," she said, kissing the horrible scar at the base of his neck. To her delight, Jon shivered with pleasure.

 

Unfortunately, their romantic interlude came to an abrupt end with Missandei's arrival. Her poor secretary was moving blindly, both hands masking her blushing face. Jon and Daenerys exchanged amused glances, Jon seemed to want to say something but Daenerys silenced him with a light tap on his chest.

 

“Your Highness, His Majesty the Queen desires invited you to a... performance.”

 

A plaintive moan escaped from the Princess's throat. She knew perfectly well that the invitation was only an excuse to try to make her socialize with Queen Elia idiot nephew.

 

“Duty first, my love," murmured Jon. “We will see each other at home tonight.”

 

Her home. Yes, that was what Jon was in her eyes, more than the Red Keep or the Manor.


	3. Not a Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for that

Hello!   
Sadly it's not a chapter.   
Looks like some people haven't receive the notification for the second chapter.   
Again sorry.   
Have a good day. =)

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be from Daenerys' point of view. Please don't hesitate to read and comment =)


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